FALLEN
Being a Stream of Consciousness Poem Written Amidst the Yellow Poplars in the Morgan-Monroe State Forest in Indiana (9-14-24)
The creaking branches fall into the forest bed below. I hear them, not giving up the fight but losing the battle, with gravity, with time, with fate. My eyes see sunlight splattered among the wilting flora, the fallen leaves, the long, thin trees fallen, fallen, fallen like a battle-hardened soldier taking one last stand, fallen, kissing the autumn wind and never to fall again, fallen, fallen. Fallen like the bitter heart that seeks no reprieve in the ashen dusk, fallen! Fallen like an eternity stretched into the bottomless abyss, fallen! Yet the sun shines even on these, if only enough space is left among the branches for it to reach through. Fallen, yes, but not forsaken. Fallen, but not forgotten. Fallen like an angel that utters no cry as it plunges into the sun, fallen.
***** * *****
As told from So(u)l's perspective:
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C. Rommial Butler
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
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Wild Card Weekend Recap: What Happens Now?
I think I figured out why I love Wild Card Weekend so much. It's because it's the first playoff anything of the calendar year. The NFL season starts in the fall, and once upon a time, the champion was crowned either on or slightly before New Year's. The evolution of the NFL schedule has resulted in the playoffs starting just into the New Year, and currently, the final week of the season falls on the first weekend of the New Year, with Wild Card Weekend coming a week after that. So yes, chronologically, the NFL's Wild Card Weekend serves as the first playoff anything of the calendar year.
By Clyde E. Dawkins2 days ago in Unbalanced
Comments (15)
So poignant and beautifully done. This line panged my heart, "Fallen like an angel that utters no cry as it plunges into the sun, fallen." That image is so tragic
'Sup Cr ~ I could never figure what was 1st ~ the forest or the trees; akin to the chicken or the egg..! btw; Glad we both use our type writers; our handwriting leaves a lot to be desired...! Hmm! j.bud.in.l.a.
Uber, uber gorgeous! BRAVO!
That pic of the burning man...so sad...the sacrifices for freedom or whatever is happening. I adore walking in the forest of trees, hearing the leaves sing and the branches fall. Lovely poetry.
Very impactful use of repetition! Stunning work
Wistfully done ๐
Beautiful and introspective. Excellent work, Charles.
A sacrifice of a part for the whole.
A forest, yes, but also metaphorically accurate for so many other aspects of life. I love the fact that you used your raw copy as your accompanying picture. Cool.
This captures the sounds and images of the forest in autumn, the leaf litter and downed branches amongst all the rot of seasons past. And then of course the overriding metaphor of humanityโs fall from grace. Both striking and beautiful!
That took a few stabs at my heart. It pierced sooo deeply. Loved it so much!
Such a poignant and lingering poem. Well done.
The cadence of this is hypnotic. Your prose actually lends itself to the feeling of falling, sort of tumbling into the end. LOVE this!
I have fallen for this. Exquisite
Beautifully exsposited (I just made that word up).